I Do Believe in Miracles
Harriet Tubman first escaped enslavement in Dorchester County, on the Eastern Shore of Maryland, on September 17, 1849. She returned at least 13 times to lead at least 70 to freedom. One-hundred-and-seventy-five years after that first escape, these four poems from southeast Virginia honor her spirit of resistance and solidarity.
WHAT A SPIRIT BUNDLE HOLDS, OR DOESN’T
An archeologist’s prime find. Hands as shovels, back bowed like Paw Paw Bend
on the Potomac. Needle picks, fine feather dusters. Implements unlocking
history of the enslaved. picks, fine feather dusters. IAnthony Thompson’s Plantation.
Shell-clay pottery fragments. Tokens, entrance into the spiritual world.
Unearthed iron and broken brass snippets. West African bravery and strength.
Unearthed iron and broken brass snippets. West African bravOwner’s shackles.
Red bricks to communicate with Ogun, the pathmaker. Axe and dog
as companions.ks for Orishas to move to a heart shaped vesselTracking tools.
Attempted tricks for Orishas to move to a heart-shaped vessel. A glass bottle once filled
with Choptank River waters. Spiritual elixirs.art shapeAn escape route.
Years before, the overseer, black back bowed like Paw Paw Bend, assembles
his spirit bundle. Years before Tubman, he warmed himself by her hearth. Sometimes
he had premonitions. A wisp of a woman just outside the window. She pivots
to the north, strikes a flint, and walks into the night.
he had premonitions. A wisp of a woman just the window. She pivotBurns it all down.
BEST KEPT SECRET
I stand by the Choptank let the chilly March waters touch the tip of my toes
watch the blue crabs scurry among eelgrass walk the trail at the museum
chat with the green bristle stalks drive by what’s left of Brodess farm
the Thompson plantation put my ear to the earth soak up every fact I can
unearth tiptoe out of my room at midnight gaze up at the Chesapeake sky
locate the North Star and still am no closer to unlocking her secrets just
as she wanted.
TEACHING PARADOX TO MY ELEVENTH GRADE STUDENTS
A paradox is when you can return home
repeatedly. A place that has taken more than it has
ever given. You can smell the musk of the marsh,
hear Little Blackwater whisper, listen to the cattails
rub hands.
Stand mere feet from the summer kitchen. Recognize
the aroma of biscuits baking, the sizzle and pop
of okra in the fry pan. You can do all this, but
you can never stay.
GO DOWN, MOSES
My Southern Baptist friends will gasp, the people
at Rock Springs camp meeting may whisper about me,
and Jay may boot me out of the Mustang alumni group (again), but I am
prepared to withstand the canards when I am shopping at the market
with Mother, thumping melons in the produce section or detecting gossip
at the Handy Mart when purchasing an Orange Nehi and a Tasty Cake.
The Washington Post and the Guardian agree Biblical Moses had a strong
east wind and the laws of physics on his side. Simulations show a land bridge
could have formed and lasted up to four hours. I am a follower of the Word,
I do believe in miracles. But when an African American woman, incapacitated at times,
can outmaneuver slave owners, their snarling dogs, shackles, and whips
with only the North Star and street smarts—that is a miracle.
About the author
After twenty-four years in Fort Lauderdale, Carol Krauss has relocated to Virginia to be closer to her family. She is the author of Just a Spit Down the Road, The Old Folks Call it God’s Country, and Martha June and Me.